


Worse Things

by orphan_account



Series: How We Came To Be [3]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Engagement, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Illness, Kissing, Morning Sickness, Pre Canon, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 09:33:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9315662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It was the sushi.  She was sure of it.  Just some bad sushi.  But she knew she'd better check with the doctor, just in case.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I have done the thing I said I wanted to do on tumblr. Warnings for this fic, mentions of morning sickness (in non graphic detail, but if that's too much for you to read, skip this fic).

“Ma chérie?” Bob heard the groaning, and poked his head round the corner to find Alicia bent over the bathroom sink, pressing a wet flannel to the back of her neck. She seemed a bit green, and a bit angry looking with her narrowed blue eyes, and furrowed brows. “Again?”

“I swear it was that sushi,” she said, glowering at him as though he had personally gone into the kitchen and requested the chef serve his girlfriend tainted fish. “We are never going there again.”

Bob pressed a hand to his heart. “You have my word. But…should I cancel?”

Alicia stood up, swayed a little on her feet, then shook her head. “No. I just…need…” She glanced at the counter and huffed at the sight of her makeup bag on the far end. “Give me ten minutes to not look like I just vomited up three organs.”

Bob opened his mouth to argue, to tell her to get in bed because three days of keeping nothing down, of her bent over at the waist, him asking, “Are you okay?” and her hissing, “It’s coming out both ends, do you _think_ I’m okay?” was getting to be a bit…much. But he also saw the determined look in her eye and knew she would not be swayed.

This was an important event. There would be directors and photographers there. She wasn’t doing poorly at her job, but it was never a bad idea to rub elbows with the elite. Especially since it looked like Bob was going to be traded this year, and her moving back to the States full time would allow easier and more comfortable travel.

If, he thought as she hurled herself toward the toilet to unleash another deluge of what couldn’t be more than stomach acid by this point, she managed to survive without _actually_ vomiting up an important organ.

*** 

Alicia managed to get herself together. None of the anti-nausea medications were working, and the doctor didn’t want to prescribe her anything more potent until she came in for some blood tests, so she was forced to try a few homeopathic remedies her mother had given her.

Which was why, curled up in the passenger seat of the car, Alicia was spooning ice crushed with lemon peel and ginger into her mouth carefully—trying not to mess up her lipstick. Bob was driving as carefully as he could, which was easy enough with the New York traffic being the most terrible he’d ever been in. They were bumper to bumper, and he saw Alicia staring out the window as though keeping track of places she might have to jump out and vomit on.

“Alicia,” he said carefully, only slightly afraid of her wrath, “it might be time to get seen.”

He winced, expecting a verbal blow, but instead he got a tiny sigh and a thump as she let her head drop against the cool window. “I know,” she said. “I’ll call in the morning. I mean, it’s probably nothing more than a virus and they’re going to send me home with that crap you have to shove up your ass, but…at least I’ll be able to eat without wanting to die.”

His lips twitched into a smile and he thought, _this should be the most disgusted I’ve ever been with a human, why is this making me fall more in love with her?_ Because it was. He wanted to pull the car over and cover her in kisses. He wanted to drop down onto one knee and propose with the ring he’d had for six months now, and had been too terrified of even the idea of rejection to try.

But god he loved her.

Instead of doing any of that, he reached over and brushed a lock of hair away from her ear, and let his fingers trail down the side of her neck. She let out a soft hum and leant into the touch, her eyes fluttering shut. “That feels nice.”

There was little relief he could bring her, so if this was something, he’d give it. “We won’t stay long,” he said quietly as she pushed another it of lemon peel into her mouth. “You’re suffering. You don’t need to put yourself through this for a job.”

He expected to be chirped, or shouted at, or at least get her patented Alicia Glower. But instead she sighed and shrugged. “Yeah. You might be right.”

It was right then, Bob knew whatever it was, it was probably bad.

*** 

Bob attempted to distract himself from whatever might be wrong with Alicia by practicing harder than he had ever practised before. He got to the training facility early, hit the weights, then the treadmill. On the ice, he was a beast, skating suicides until he wanted to puke as hard as Alicia had been.

The guys seemed a little worried, but Bob didn’t care. They didn’t have a game tonight, so the moment he was done, he was rushing home and trying not to think about everything that could be wrong with her.

It was…a lot. He loved her so much. The thought of her being actually sick, of something be wrong, the vague idea of losing her…

He cut out of practise early, and it was by miracle alone he arrived back at the house in one piece, without having been stopped by the police.

Bob attempted to compose himself before stepping inside, kicking off his shoes at the door, and hanging up his coat. His hair was covered in a dusting of snow he’d got from the walk from the car to the door, which he shook off and scrubbed his hands over his pink cheeks.

The house was quiet, the only sound the gentle humming of the heater. His eyes flicked to the stairs, and he heard a muffled sound coming from the bedroom. Trying not to run, telling himself it was nothing—she was _fine_ , he took the stairs two at a time and offered a prayer up to whatever god was listening.

_If you spare her, you can have whatever you want. I’ll give up hockey, my health, my money, whatever. Just…let her be okay. Please._

He stopped by their bedroom door and the noise was clear. She was crying. The sobs were muffled, but they were distinct, and Bob’s heart plummeted into his stomach. He wished…merde he wished he had called or taken a day off or something. He should have gone with her. He should have been there!

Breathing for a second, he pushed the door open and stepped inside. The curtains were drawn, and the lights were off, but he could see her crouched at the foot of the bed, clutching a pillow to her middle, her face buried in it. The sobs stopped when he entered, but she didn’t look up, not even as he crouched down and put a hand on her shoulder. 

“Ma chérie. Alicia,” he said, carefully easing his arms round her waist. She softened against him, but still didn’t move, so he pressed up against her back and buried his face in her neck. “Whatever it is, it’s okay. We can…we’ll get through it together.”

“Bobby,” she said, her voice thick with tears. She cleared her throat and turned her head to the side. In the dim light coming from just under the curtains, he could see her cheeks and eyes puffy, stained with tear tracks. She licked her lips and tried again. “Bobby I…”

“Tell me,” he pressed, holding her even closer. Whatever it was, it would be okay. “It’ll be okay,” he said aloud. “I promise. Chérie, modern medicine is more amazing every day. I’ll take a year off hockey and we can travel anywhere we need to, I promise. It’s going to be fine. Whatever it is, we’ve…”

“Bobby,” she said, raising her voice just slightly, “I’m pregnant.”

Bob had experienced a lot of startling news over his lifetime. The death of his father, being drafted to the Canadiens, winning the cup, winning several awards. Being named captain. Being told he was probably going to be traded.

He’d weathered them all with poise and grace.

But now.

Now.

He sat, his brown eyes wide, mouth slightly agape, just a slight sort of humming noise coming from his throat. He tried to keep himself together, tried to formulate something, anything, that could be considered a response to what she had said.

Pregnant.

There was. There was. A child. In her. Growing in her. Their child. _His_ child.

Oh. 

God.

“I…” he said. And cleared his throat. “I.”

“Yeah,” she said with a strained laugh.

Bob swallowed, feeling like there was a cannon ball lodged in his throat. “Euh…” English was failing him. “Mais… mais comment est-ce arrive?”

“Je ne sais pas,” Alicia answered back, turning her head just slightly. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Are you angry?”

“Alicia,” he said, his voice choked, the idea of being angry with her about something like this so foreign to him. “Mais non, ma chérie…je…” He stopped, and breathed, then pulled the pillow away from her middle and took her completely into his lap. He cupped her cheek, his hand large and swallowing half her face, and he let out a small sigh of relief when she nuzzled into it. “How could I be angry?”

She shrugged. “I’m angry. Bobby I’m…I wasn’t…we’re not…” She took in a shaking breath. “I’m not ready for this. We’ve only been dating a year, we haven’t talked about the future. You’re always on roadies, I’m gone four or five months at a time on location. How…how can we raise a baby?”

Her voice started to take on a hysterical note, and Bob clutched her close to him. “My love,” he said very softly, “I don’t know the answers to that. To any of it. But…I don’t care. Whatever we have to do.” Boldly, a little daring because he wasn’t sure how she was going to react, his hand drifted down, cupping the still-flat of her stomach. He tried to imagine what was in there. A cluster of cells? Something smaller than a peanut, tucked inside and growing, and would some day become a human being that he and Alicia had created together.

He was dizzy with the realisation, and a little terrified, yes. But he’d never been so sure of something in his entire life. He’d never been so damned sure that something was meant to exist, to happen, until right now.

“Our baby,” he murmured.

Her cheeks went instantly pink, and she laughed, the sound high and tight. “It’s not a baby yet. It’s just an idea, Bobby. We don’t even know if it’ll last. They said I’m…eleven weeks? I even had a period! I didn’t…I didn’t know. I had no idea I…” She stopped and let herself fall back into his arms, face pushed up against the thrumming of his pulse. “What are we going to do?”

He brushed his hand through her hair, and kissed her temple, and closed his eyes without letting himself imagine what a child they created would look like. Not yet. It wasn’t time to get attached now. Maybe when she was less scared, and finished crying. “We’re going to be parents, if we’re meant to be,” he said. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll make it work so neither of us loses anything. But Alicia…I love you. I…” He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling with a breath and then said, “Will you marry me?”

She reared back, a look of horror on her face, and she smacked him on the arm. “You asshole! What…I’m not…I’m not going to have some shotgun wedding because you knocked me up!”

Bob’s face flared red-hot, and he spluttered. “That’s not…Alicia…ça a mal sorti. Je voulais pas dire ça comme ça…” He stopped himself. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. Easing her off his lap, he stood up on shaking legs, amazed they were holding him up at all. Stumbling to the wardrobe, he opened one of the drawers, and carefully extracted the box from inside a wrapped up pair of boxers tucked into the very back.

Turning, his hands trembled only a little as he held it out. There was no mistaking what it was, and he watched her eyes widen.

“Bobby,” she whispered.

“I wasn’t sure when I was going to, because I was…scared.” He shrugged, scrubbing a hand down his face. She rose, slipping onto the edge of the bed, and he took a seat next to her. “I wasn’t sure you’d say yes. And you don’t have to. But please believe me, it’s not because of the baby. We can wait, if you like. Until after the baby comes. Or we can get married never. I just know I love you and I want to love you forever, and that’s the only thing that matters.”

Tears were spilling down her cheeks now, and she wiped them away with the back of her hand. “This is the hormones,” she insisted through a sobbing laugh. “I don’t…I don’t _cry_.”

He laughed with her, his own eyes stinging, and he clutched the box hard enough to hurt. “I know. I know you don’t. Of course it’s the baby.”

Her hand went involuntarily to her stomach, pressing there, and he tried not to stare at it. Tried not to imagine what she was going to look like with a big belly and tired eyes. God, he loved her so much.

“Can I see it?” she asked.

Nodding, he carefully popped the top off. It was a sapphire. She hated diamonds, he knew. And she hated yellow gold. But he’d found a deep blue sapphire set in rose gold. It was so simple, oval, no flash, no fuss. The band was thin, and the stone didn’t stick up too far. He’d seen it and he knew it was for her.

“Oh,” she breathed.

He licked his lips, then shrugged. “It’s yours. If you want it.” _If you want me_ , but he didn’t say that part aloud.

Her fingers brushed over the ring, then she clasped his wrist. “Put it on me.”

His hand only shook a little when he did, and she stared down at her hand, splayed over his, the ring nestled perfectly. The stinging in his eyes got a little worse.

“So…euh…”

“Okay,” she said.

Bob looked her. She looked back. And they both promptly burst into laughter.

“That was the worst proposal in the history of mankind, Bobby,” she chirped.

He grinned. “And that, ma chérie, was the worst acceptance.”

“So I guess we’re a matching set,” she replied. She tugged on him until he leant over to kiss her. It was short, and sweet, and her fingers tangled in his hair just the way he liked. “So. We’re getting married and having a baby.”

“In that order?” he asked, a smile creeping over his features.

“Don’t push it,” she warned. “The doctor gave me something to stop the nausea and this is the first time I’ve felt good in days. Do not ruin this.”

He laughed and put both arms round her, nuzzling into her hair. “Then let’s make the best of it. Take away, a long bath, some sex.” When she scoffed he said, “What? It’s not like you can get extra pregnant,” and she smacked him with a giggle.

“I changed my mind, I don’t want to marry you anymore.”

Bob cupped her cheek and kissed the tip of her nose. “Too late. The ring is a binding contract. You’ve got me for life, mon coeur.”

She sighed, but her lips tugged upward as she met his eyes. “Well. I suppose there are worse things.”

He grinned back. “Yes. I suppose there are.”


End file.
